


No Such Thing As Breakeven

by cassieoh



Series: SOSH Guess the Author Fics [6]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Adult Warlock Dowling, Crowley and Aziraphale were good but WEIRD parents to this kid, Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), DEFINITELY wasn't normal, Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), Gen, Growing Up, Queer Character, That's the genre, and realize that that thing from your childhood, at least, bc that's it, but also you're a better person bc of it, i can guarantee you'll feel one (1) emotion, look imma be real it's not angst but its not not angst, turning your antichrist training into a career for fun and profit, unconventional parenting, what's the genre for that feeling when you grow up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:28:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27908257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassieoh/pseuds/cassieoh
Summary: When Warlock was small, he and Nanny played a game.“Stand up straight,” she’d said. “Eyes forward, shoulders back, there’s a good little King.”  Then, she’d tap the bottom of his chin with a crooked finger until he raised his head just a bit and send him off to harass Brother Francis.That wasn’t the game.The game was what came next.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Warlock Dowling, Nanny Ashtoreth & Warlock Dowling, implied
Series: SOSH Guess the Author Fics [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1902277
Comments: 30
Kudos: 193
Collections: SOSH - Guess the Author #09 "Game"





	No Such Thing As Breakeven

**Author's Note:**

> big thanks to [DiminishingReturns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiminishingReturns/pseuds/DiminishingReturns) for the characterization check on Warlock <3 <3 <3

When Warlock was small, he and Nanny played a game. 

“Stand up straight,” she’d said. “Eyes forward, shoulders back, there’s a good little King.” Then, she’d tap the bottom of his chin with a crooked finger until he raised his head just a bit[1] and send him off to harass Brother Francis. 

That wasn’t the game. 

The game was what came next.

Warlock would go find someone bigger and stronger and more respected than himself and he’d hold his head like Nanny taught him and he’d _get what he wanted._

That was the game. 

Take the scary thing and twist it around on itself until it wasn’t so scary anymore, until Warlock was sure that it was nothing worse than Brother Francis trying to explain to Nanny just why he’d chosen roses despite her warnings about the soil acidity being all wrong for them. 

Warlock loved the game when he was little and Nanny smoothed his head back from his forehead in pride each time they played. 

He learned the game could be a competitive one the first time he played without Nanny, standing on a dusty plain looking up at a terrible Thing wearing a man’s skin like a suit. Warlock met the Thing’s eyes and he heard Nanny’s voice and he tilted his chin up slightly. 

He survived. 

He understood, then. It had been a fun game[2] but that wasn’t the purpose. 

The game never had a name, but Warlock started thinking of it the same way he thought of breathing; a part of him as essential to life as air or water or any of it. 

The armies Nanny was always promising never manifested and, when Nanny herself vanished as if she’d never existed, Warlock realized that that was part of the game, too. 

It hurt, but that was okay because Nanny wasn’t the only one teaching him. Brother Francis had shown him how to take hurt and smooth the jagged places away and make it part of the foundation of himself. His foundation was strong.

Warlock played the game and he played it well. 

He stood up straight before his father and said, “No, dad, I won’t ever be bringing a nice girl home.” 

He kept his eyes forward as he pursued his degree. 

His shoulders back when dropped his first manuscript in the post box. 

And now, a phantom finger under his chin[3] as he stood stage left, waiting for his name to be called. 

Warlock stepped into the lights, a broad grin firmly in place because Nanny was right. 

Stand up straight. 

Eyes forward. Shoulders back. 

Warlock _would_ make himself be heard. 

* * *

1. “Confidence is key, always look like you know what’s going on, even when you’re lost.” “I’ll never be lost, Nanny.” “Oh?” “You always know where we’re going and you’re never leaving me.” “Never?” “Never. I command it.” “Well in that case.”↩

2. “Brother Francis wants to nap, convince him you need ice cream instead.”↩

3. “Confidence, Warlock. They’ll fall into line.”↩


End file.
